KAZ 2Y5
by duckponds
Summary: She was alive. Really, truly alive. She needed to find Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**title: **KAZ 2Y5  
**series:** supernatural (season four, between episodes 3 and 4) / doctor who (season six, between episodes 4 and 5)  
**rating: **m (to be safe)  
**synopsis:** the winchesters must team up with team tardis to protect someone dear to them

**a/n:** this is the first fanfiction i've written in a while, so bear with me while i get my sea-legs back! this might actually end up being fairly spoiler-free for those who have not seen the sixth season of doctor who, although i can't say the same for the supernatural half. r/r if you'd like, i would love the feedback :] xx

* * *

When she woke up, she could tell immediately that something was very, very wrong.

First of all, she never slept. Well - at least not that she could tell. She had always just _been there_, conscious of her surroundings at all times. The brothers might not have known this, but she was always watching them and doing her best to keep them safe (even if they were content with constantly doing things that could get themselves hurt or, worse, _killed_.) But this was a different sort of waking, a different sort of consciousness that she was completely unfamiliar with.

And then there was the fact that she could move. Or rather, she could move on her own accord. First, she opened her eyes (that's what they were called, right?), and she found that everything was much too bright. That was when she brought her hands to her face, although she wasn't quite sure how those had gotten there either. She couldn't remember ever having hands. But there they were - thin and pale and completely solid, blocking the bright sun from her eyes. She felt the rest of her face with these hands; there was a nose and lips and even a little rounded chin, all of which baffled her completely. These were all new.

That was when it occurred to her that she could sit up, so she did. Blinking in the light, her hands still shielding most of it from her eyes, she took in her surroundings. All she saw was desert, and not much else. Not even a familiar road to follow. The sun was high in the sky, which was completely empty of any clouds. A bird of prey circled above.

She was alone.

Without thinking about it, she sighed, and the noise surprised her. That was also new. She made the noise again, breathing out deeply to try out her new lungs. Her hands went to her chest experimentally as she took in a deep mouthful of air. In. Out. In. Out. So this was what breathing was like. How strange.

She became aware of other oddities as well - long dark hair that fell to the middle of her back, toes that curled and uncurled when she wanted them to, joints that all moved and rotated as they should. But every sensation, every movement was new to her.

She was alive. Really, truly alive.

She needed to find Dean.


	2. Chapter 2

"Something's wrong," the Doctor said as he pranced around the TARDIS consol, expertly flipping switches and pressing buttons. The TARDIS whirred around them loudly, clearly displeased about something, although the immediate reason was unclear to all of her passengers. He had already lapped the consol several times now, and the only indication that the Time Lord was actually concerned was a light crease in his brow. To an onlooker unfamiliar with him, they might only assume that the Doctor was slightly miffed, or perhaps about to sneeze.

Amy Pond stood a few feet away with her arms crossed over her chest and the same look of slight concern on her pale face. She watched him warily, knowing very well that it was never a good sign to hear those two words from him. She had the distinct feeling, though, that there was a chance that the Doctor was _excited_ to see trouble. Actually, scratch that, she _knew_ the Doctor would be excited to see trouble. He always was. And, really, she felt that same excitement in the pit of her stomach at the idea of an adventure.

Her ever present and loyal husband stood beside her, his expression worried enough for all three of them. Rory just gaped at the Doctor as the gangly man made his way 'round and 'round the consol, fairly certain that he was just flipping random switches as he came to them. _He_ had the distinct feeling that the other man really had no idea what he was doing, and that the TARDIS was just taking them somewhere of her own choosing. It wouldn't have been the first time that something like that happened, and it certainly wasn't going to be the last.

"Well?" Amy asked expectantly, sounding slightly exasperated – although the look of excitement on her face gave her true feelings away. Rory eyed her, knowing very well that his wife was just as mad as the Time Lord that had whisked her away all of those years ago, and he was the only pillar of sanity amongst them. He would have stated that even the TARDIS herself was saner than the Doctor as well – if anyone would have listened to him about it.

"Alright, dear, no need to get angry," the Doctor was saying in his calmest voice, clearly unaware that Amy and Rory were still standing there waiting for an explanation. Instead, he had paused at the consol and was apparently trying to coax the TARDIS into calming down, his hands stroking her fondly, although by the sound of it she was only getting more and more upset with every passing second.

Sure enough, almost like clockwork, there was a loud screech and the entirety of the ship rocked, sending the three of them stumbling across the consol room. Somehow, the Doctor seemed to keep his balance before he accidentally fell from the ledge of the main floor, and Amy and Rory balanced themselves on the consol chairs. All of the lights flickered and dimmed for a moment, before the entire room went dark, silent, and much too still.

"Okay, don't panic!" the Doctor's voice called out in the dark. There was the sound of more stumbling, switches being flipped, and a set of emergency lights flickered on. The Doctor clapped his hands together and turned to face them, smiling despite the circumstances. "Are you alright, Ponds? Yes, good. Now don't just sit there!"

He dashed around the consol to resume his button pressing, and Amy and Rory exchanged glances as they pushed themselves from the consol seats. "What happened?" Amy finally asked, taking a step toward him, her brow knit together with worry. "Have we stopped? It feels like we stopped…"

The Doctor looked around the dimmed consol room, fidgeting with his jacket sleeves. The crease in his forehead had gotten deeper, and he seemed to be avoiding looking at either one of his companions. Before he said anything, Amy knew that she was right – they had stopped. And by the looks of it, there was really no way for them to tell where they were; at least not with the power out.

But the Doctor didn't say anything; instead, he just continued fiddling with switches on the TARDIS console, as if something could still actually work. The Ponds watched him warily as he paused to knock on the display screen, and then again to punch a series of keys in rapid succession at the typewriter. Nothing happened. The ship remained as still as ever. The thought crossed Rory's mind that she was _ignoring_ them. He tried not to be too miffed about this.

And then there was a knock on the TARDIS door, causing all three of them to start and turn their eyes toward the entrance. The knock echoed through the console room too loudly, and at first no one moved. After a long stretch of silence, there was another knock, three quick raps against the wood outside.

"Someone's knocking," Amy pointed out, mostly just to say something, her eyebrows rising.

Her voice seemed to wake the Doctor up, and a grin bloomed across his mouth as he bounded over to the doors. He touched the wood lightly with the palms of his hands, and then he leaned in to press his ear against the door. Rory opened his mouth as if he might speak, but the Doctor just held one impatient finger at him, effectively cutting him off. Rory had wanted to make the comment that last time someone knocked on the TARDIS door, things had not gone so well. Sure, the Doctor had managed to make it to them just in the knick of time – as he was often wont to do – but Rory was not looking for a repeat of the mental trauma that the Ponds had endured at the hand of House while they waited.

The Doctor called for silence, though, so Rory just reached for Amy's hand in an attempt to push away the worry. She gave him a quick, reassuring smile, but then her attention was back on the Doctor. She fought the urge to speak up as well, a million questions threatening to pour out of her mouth. Of course, even if the Doctor knew the answers, at times the chances of him telling them were slim-to-none. They would just have to wait, she supposed. Be patient. Amelia Pond hated being patient. If it were up to her, she would have torn the TARDIS doors right off the hinges to see what was calling to them.

But the Doctor seemed better at controlling his enthusiasm (at least for now), as he quietly listened to the outside world with his ear pressed against the TARDIS door. And then he brought his hand up and knocked back, his knuckles light against the wood. There was a short pause, and then whatever was outside waiting for them returned the knock. The Doctor let out a pleased little sound and straightened, beaming toward the Ponds as if he had just discovered something very important.

"What do you think, should we let them in?"

Everything happened all at once – Rory opened his mouth to argue, Amy dropped his hand to bounce closer to the door excitedly, and the Doctor reached for the door handle without waiting for either of their responses. But before he could pull it open, it swung open on its own, as if the TARDIS was tired of playing his game.

The Doctor jumped back as the door opened, momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight that suddenly poured into the console room. He blinked and shielded his eyes – there was a dark shape standing in the doorway, blotting out the light. He stepped forward once more as Amy rushed passed him, blocking the person from view.

She had been far enough away to see her through the light after the doors swung open. It was a girl, maybe a little bit older than her, and she was _completely naked_. Without thinking she rushed for her, passed the Doctor and into the doorway where she held her arms open for her.

The girl regarded her with wide, dark eyes, her hand still poised as if she had been getting ready to knock again. Her dark hair hung over her shoulders, and Amy could see that she had gotten a bit of sun on her back. How long had she been out here wandering before the TARDIS landed?

Her hand reached for Amy now, worry creasing her brow. She worked her mouth as if she was trying to speak. Behind them, the Doctor was calling for Amy to come back, Rory wholeheartedly supporting him. She ignored them, though, completely engrossed in the woman who reached for her, her mouth open, frowning… She wanted to help, she wanted to do _something_…

"Dean," the girl managed, her fingers grasping at Amy's shirt-sleeve. She repeated herself, louder and more frantic, but then was overcome by a coughing fit. She stumbled, her eyes rolled back into her head, and then she fainted.

* * *

Something was… Something was different…

The air was cool, her new body felt sore but covered. There were voices speaking around her, quiet and calm. A humming. A warm whirring. A machine wrapped around her in a loving embrace – she could smell it, feel it, taste it. She knew that she had found her, although she wasn't sure how. When was the last time she had spied her in the sky, twinkling a distant hello? But she was here. She just knew it. And with the vessel came the man that would find Dean, wherever he had been taken. She would protect him.

"_What are those numbers?"_

Something touched her arm, picked it up. The touch was gentle though, and she continued to lie very still in her new bed. There was a kind of vibrating hum, something warm swiped against her arm, and then it was replaced back at her side.

A thoughtful noise, a human noise. _"A vehicle identification number."_ He sounded pleased.

"_Like… for a car?"_ The girl who had helped her. The one with the red hair.

Another pleased little laugh. _"I'd say so."_ Tapping, clicking, beeping. _"Oh. Oh, of course. Poor, poor dear…"_

The others spoke to him, but she didn't listen. Instead she listened for the TARDIS, she was speaking now, almost singing, lulling…

_Everything will be okay._


	3. Chapter 3

"Sam!"

Dean Winchester's voice carried across the nearly empty motel parking lot, the singular syllable echoing against the U-shaped building. Faces peered from various windows at the panicked sound, but retreated back into the darkness of their rooms when all they saw was a dark haired man standing in an empty parking space gripping a duffle bag.

His eyes darted around the parking lot, disbelieving and wide. He called for his brother again, louder this time, and Sam burst from their room with his hand in his jacket. The younger Winchester was ready to attack, his hand finding the handle of the knife that he had tucked away. But he paused when he saw Dean alone, standing rigid in the sunlight. Straightening, he pulled his hand from his pocket and stepped toward him almost hesitantly. "What's wrong?" His voice was just as cautious, as if he wasn't quite certain he wanted to know what would make his older brother sound so alarmed.

"The Impala," Dean choked out, his voice rougher than usual. "_Where's the Impala_?"

At his words, Sam glanced around the parking lot and realized what he was saying. The Impala was gone. A few cars dotted the worn lot, but they were, in fact, standing in the exact spot that Dean had pulled into not even five hours ago. Once more his body tensed as he waited for the meltdown – because he knew it would come. He was suddenly reminded of a year ago, when Bela had the car towed and Dean went _insane_. Sam tried to think rationally, but it was hard to keep everything straight with his brother panting away beside him.

"_Where is she_?" Dean cried again, his grip finally loosening on the duffle bag. It fell to the ground and he turned to face Sam with a wild look on his face. He repeated himself a few more times and began to pace, tearing at his hair. "I just got her back – and someone _stole _her!"

Sam held his arms out to him, reaching for him to try to still him while glancing around nervously. "Okay, whoa, hey, _calm down_," he stressed as a few doors opened around them. A few people peered out – an old woman, a small child, a woman with a baby on her hip… He latched onto Dean's arm and dragged him toward their room, grabbing the duffle bag on the way.

Dean only seemed to follow because he didn't know what else to do; he was half hunched over with his hand over his mouth, his breathing much too heavy. Once they were inside the motel room, Sam let go of his arm and he resumed his pacing. He couldn't speak, not now, and instead he thought about his baby, his only love, being driven by a _maniac_ until she fell apart. No one knew her like he did, no one would take care of her like he did…

"Dean!"

His brother's voice startled him back into reality and he looked over at him. He was standing by the door holding his cell phone, looking as if Dean had lost his mind. (And maybe he had, a little bit, but it was only fair wasn't it?) Groaning, he collapsed into a rickety wooden chair unceremoniously – albeit dramatically – and he scrubbed a hand down his face.

"You good?" Sam asked carefully, taking a step toward him.

"Yeah," Dean grunted unhappily, but then he quickly added, "Actually, wait a second, _no_. Someone _stole my car_!"

Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes, but he took his brother's ability to be sarcastic as a good sign. At least he wasn't hyperventilating anymore. He had had enough of _that_. "We'll call the impound lots," he started moving for the phone book on the bedside table. He sat on the bed and hunched over, flipping through the thin pages. For a second he paused and looked up at Dean, and then got back to his search. "And maybe if you act a little bit more _sane_, you can go talk to the front desk."

His tone wasn't particularly cruel, but his words did the job. Dean straightened in his seat and frowned at him, his eyes narrowing after a moment. He still felt that urge to shout, to lament about the fact that some _asshole_ stole his car, but somehow he managed to keep it all in. "Yeah, okay," he grumbled moodily. And then without another word, he rose and stalked out the door, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, as it slammed shut behind him.

Secretly, a part of him had hoped that maybe when he walked back outside she would be waiting for him. Someone was playing a joke on him – that had to be it. But the parking space was still empty, and Dean took in a few deep breaths of air before he forced himself to look away. His eyes darted up and he saw it, perched innocently on the roof of the building—

A security camera.

* * *

The next time she woke, everything was much more quiet. She could hear the whir of the TARDIS, and her Time Lord humming quietly somewhere, but not much else. As she continued to lie still, she thought she heard the girl let out a short, delighted laugh. She listened to all of the noise and took stock of how she felt. Her back, which had been burning, was no longer uncomfortable against whatever she had been placed on. Her joints still felt sore, but the dryness in her throat was gone. All in all, it seemed like a vast improvement.

She opened her eyes slowly, somehow knowing that everything was going to be much too bright. Everything was blurry and she blinked, bringing her hands up to rub her eyes. After a few seconds of blinking and rubbing and more blinking, her vision seemed to come into focus and she forced herself to sit up. She was unsteady at first, and she looked around to see that she was lying in a net-type bed strung up on the low metal ceiling. The whole thing seemed to rock with any little movement, but she scrambled around until she was sitting with her legs dangling from the hammock.

Looking down at herself, she saw that someone had dressed her, and she touched the fabric curiously. Fingers still toying with the soft fabric of her shirt, she looked around to take in her surroundings. What she had initially thought to be a low roof was actually some sort of glass platform, and she could see the Time Lord practically dancing around the console lost in his own little world. Her hammock was strung up beneath the stairs, and she reached for the metal rungs to steady herself as she lowered her feet to the cool ground. Her legs shook beneath her weight but she managed to stand, and she moved gingerly around deep, black pools of what she thought looked like oil to step toward the glowing column in the middle of her small haven.

She could still hear the TARDIS murmuring soft words to her, but she found her companion harder to understand in this body. It pained her that she couldn't speak to her, not like she was used to, and she reached for the column in an attempt to hear her better…

"Good morning!"

The voice was cheerful but she still jumped, freezing with her hand outstretched towards the column. She glanced over her shoulder to see the Time Lord peering at her curiously, hanging upside down (and a bit stupidly) over the edge of the platform. He was smiling warmly at her, but there was something else in his face – she thought maybe he looked a little bit wary of her.

"Bit of a strange place to take a nap, don't you think? Rory nearly had a bit of a fit, but she wouldn't let us take you too far away from her…"

Without asking, she knew that he must have been talking about the TARDIS. She was glad that her old friend had managed to keep her close – she was comfortable down here. She had a suspicious thought if the desire to find Dean hadn't been so unnervingly strong, she would have been quite content with sleeping in this little space for as long as she could.

But the Time Lord was watching her, and she found it hard to keep her eyes off of _him_ now that he was right in front of her. She lowered her hand and stepped toward the stairs, once more taking careful steps around the pools of oil. Her arms reached out for the banister as her legs shook beneath her, and she latched on as the Time Lord scrambled to his feet to come to her aide. He was a bit slow, though, and reached her after she had managed to make it halfway up the stairs.

Nonetheless, she graciously accepted his help, looking at him with (what she had hoped) was a smile. He didn't seem to notice her expression whether or not she was smiling, and instead began talking at her much too fast. He was called the Doctor, he said, he was travelling with some friends of his – a husband and wife. Then he was off on a tangent about time and space and something called Fish Fingers and Custard, and by the time they had reached the console and he was easing her into a seat, he was asking her about his bow tie.

She didn't answer, mostly because she wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. She sat still on the leather chair he had placed her and watched as he resumed his odd little dance around the console. "Dean—" she started, and the Doctor peered around from the other side of the console.

"Yes! The Winchesters!" he exclaimed cheerily, looking away from her to fiddle with something that looked suspiciously like a gearshift. "Funny, I've always wanted to meet them, but have never really had a reason." He grinned at her and resumed his button pushing. "But this is a tricky situation, and let me tell you, your boys sure know how to hide!"

This brought a proud smile to her face and she pushed herself to her feet to join him at the console. She resisted the urge to touch anything, though the blinking lights and brightly coloured buttons were all _very_ tempting. "The Oaken Lodge," she said instead of touching anything, leaning close to the Doctor. Her hand landed on his arm, but as soon as she realized this she tore it away. "In Friday Harbor. Washington."

The Doctor grinned at her again, tugging at something in her chest. She couldn't help but smile back. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed, quickly moving away from her to the other side of the console. "Although a little bit odd – we picked you up in Nevada…" And then he trailed off, spinning into a self-fueled discussion about the desert.

"…And there's a whole planet – _a whole planet_ – made up of sand," he was saying as he made her way around the console to him. "Not a single drop of water or dirt or, well, anything that's not sand. They shuttle water to the planet in intergalactic pumper tankers. Giant space fire trucks!" He let out a laugh, as this was the most amusing thing he had ever heard.

The entire time he went on, she watched him curiously, still quite unable to help the smile on her face. It was no wonder the TARDIS picked him. _She_ would have picked him if she hadn't already had Dean. At the thought of him her smile faltered, and she reached for the Doctor once more. "Something bad is going to happen," she said in a low voice, her brow furrowed. It felt strange to speak, and her mouth fought to form the words, but she pressed on. "I need to protect them."

For the first time, the Doctor's face seemed to go serious, and he placed a hand over hers. "Yes, of course you do," he said warmly, a reassuring smile coming to his face. "So it's a good thing you found me, yeah?"

Then something behind her distracted him, and the wide grin was back on his face. "Ponds! Come meet our guest!" he exclaimed, waving his arm in the air.

She glanced over her shoulder to see the woman from before, along with another man, peering out at them from a half open door. She instantly regretted that she could not remember their names. At the Doctor's word they approached, the woman reaching them far quicker. She had a very similar look on her face to the Doctor's – wild and curious.

"Amy, Rory," the Doctor was saying, "This is—" But then he stopped, as if something had just occurred to him. He turned to her, tilting his head a bit. "Do you have a name?"

She thought about this, chewing on her lip for a moment. "K-A-Z-2-Y-5," she recited, but that didn't sound right and now the other three were looking at her oddly. She felt something, something she had never felt before – embarrassed? She looked down for a moment, thinking. She _did_ have a name, didn't she? She was Dean's, he called her…

"Baby," she said suddenly. "Dean calls me Baby."

There was another long pause, and then the Doctor started to chuckle quietly to himself, as if _this_ was now the most amusing thing he had ever heard. "Of course he does."


	4. Chapter 4

**a/n:** thanks to all for the watches and reviews! i hope keep enjoying this little thing xx

* * *

They settled on calling her Kaz.

That was perfectly fine with her – she didn't care _what_ they called her as long as they could find her boys (as the Doctor and Amy had taken to calling the Winchesters.) It was strange though, she thought, suddenly having a name, suddenly having the _need_ for a name. They were constantly calling to her, asking her questions. The Doctor in particular seemed very interested in both of the Winchesters, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness for them as his persistence.

What could she tell them? By the way that he spoke, she had a feeling that the Doctor knew a lot more about them than he was leading on. But he still acted pleasantly surprised when she slipped out the word 'demon,' as if the reality of them had never struck him before. She wasn't sure if she should believe his reaction or not, but she took a little bit of pleasure in describing the foul things to him.

But he was worldly – no, he was of more than the world. The TARDIS had told her stories of him, when they happened to cross paths. So he _had_ to know of demons and angels, and the ever-approaching end. She watched him carefully the moments that his attention was away from her, trying to understand. If he knew more, why wasn't he helping? Didn't he know what they were fighting for?

In the end, a part of her was grateful for the speaking. The more she did it, the easier it became – although she was still having trouble understanding a lot of what was going on. She mostly felt that panic, that worry that Dean was out there on his own, while Sam…

But she didn't want to think about that. After all of those months alone with him, she discovered that she wanted to have faith in the youngest Winchester. It was a strange feeling.

* * *

Sam had just finished calling all of the tow lots he had managed to find in the phone book when Dean burst back into their motel room. He was sitting very still on the bed, clutching his cell phone and trying to figure how exactly he was going to break the news to Dean. None of the lots had the Impala, and he had even called the local police for good measure, but they hadn't seen it either. He was _certain_ that his older brother was going to have a nervous breakdown – that is, unless he got good news from the front desk. He could only hope.

He glanced over his shoulder as the door slammed shut, and (oddly enough) Dean was looking significantly better, although his mouth was set in a grim line. Sam straightened, shifting a little bit so that he could face him. He wasn't sure whether to feel good or bad about the passive look on his face, and he watched him carefully as he made his way across the room.

"_Well_?" he asked expectantly when Dean just rushed over to the television and hunched over instead of speaking up.

"Security tape," Dean answered shortly, glancing over his shoulder at him. "It's _weird_."

Sam continued to eye him as he continued fiddling with the VCR. "Like, our kind of weird…?" he asked slowly, not quite sure where he was going with this. They had followed a dead lead to this town and absolutely nothing supernatural had happened in their week stay. What had changed?

Dean's only response was a sidelong glance, and then he managed to get the tape to play. It started with them pulling in the night before, and he sat hunched in front of the television fast-forwarding for a couple of seconds. When he hit play again, the lot was dark and still. The Impala was still in the parking space. Then the image flickered, static rolled across the screen, and the image reappeared. The Impala was still there, but then a light began to grow into the frame, filling everything, covering the image. When it flashed back to normal, the car was gone.

After stopping the tape, Dean rocked back and pushed himself to his feet, crossing his arms across his chest. "There's also a camera on the other side of the building, near the exit, but she wasn't driven out."

Sam was still staring at the television incredulously. What had he just watched? How had _no one_ noticed that the night before? It didn't make any sense. Finally he let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. It is weird," he said, mostly to himself, still desperately trying to process what he had just seen. "Play it again."

They watched it a few more times, and each time Sam scooted closer to the television with the hopes of catching a figure in the background, or a pair of glowing eyes. But it was just the light, eating up everything until the screen was white and painful to look at. Then a long, heavy silence followed while they tried to work it out.

Dean's mind immediately went to the angels – all that bright light crap seemed to be right up their alley. So what did Castiel want _now_? And why the hell did he have to steal his car instead of just coming and speaking with him? It was frustrating, to say the least, and the _last_ thing he wanted to do was help when all he kept doing was popping in and out of his life with vague warnings and time travel.

He would be okay if he never had time even _think_ about time travel ever again.

* * *

As it turned out, they weren't at The Oaken Lodge. The Doctor landed the TARDIS in the parking lot of the motel, tucked between a dumpster and the building, and Kaz was the first one out, bursting through the doors quickly. She nearly tripped over her own feet, and the asphalt was hot and rough against her skin but she hardly noticed. Her eyes darted around the parking lot and she tried to remember which door…

The Doctor followed, and then Amy, and Rory brought up the rear. They glanced around and then turned to watch her as she began to panic when she couldn't remember which room they had been in. She checked each space, but none of them felt right. She had the sinking feeling that they weren't here. But if not here, where _were_ they? Where could they go without her?

After lapping the parking lot, she wordlessly wandered back to the others. She wanted to shout, she wanted to cry. _Where was he_? She had just gotten him miraculously back after what had seemed like a hundred lifetimes without him. And now he was gone again. She started to feel something else – _Helpless_, her thoughts provided helpfully.

"We should check with the desk, yeah?" Amy offered after a long moment of silence. With a quick motion to Kaz, she bounded off to the door labeled as the office. She followed without a second thought, glancing over her shoulder once to see the Doctor pulling out his funny little screwdriver to wave at things.

By the time she reached the office door, Amy had already ducked in, and it took her a moment to figure out how to pull it open to follow. A little bell dinged above her head, distracting her for a quick second. Then she saw Amy at the counter, leaning forward to talk to the young man at the counter. He was watching her with a crooked grin, a look on his face that Kaz couldn't quite understand. "We're looking for a couple of blokes," Amy was saying sweetly, tilting her head endearingly.

Kaz stepped forward, and Amy glanced over her shoulder to grin at her. "C'mon, tell him about your boys." Her voice was light, and she reached her arm out to take her hand in hers.

Her touch relaxed her, and she managed a little smile as she reached the counter. The boy at the counter was watching her now, but she hardly noticed. Instead she focused on the wall behind his head as she tried to think of the right words to describe them. "There's two, Agents Panozzo and DeYoung," she started thoughtfully, hoping that she remembered the correct aliases – there were so _many_.

Amy raised her eyebrows at the word 'Agents,' but Kaz ignored her and continued quickly. "Panozzo was the shorter one, about this tall—" She held her hand a few inches over her head. "—But DeYoung was taller, and-"

"Yeah, they were here," the boy interrupted before she could start to describe Dean's darkness, or Sam's smile. "They left a week ago, though."

Her brow furrowed at his words, and she became a little bit confused. A week ago? That seemed _much_ too long. She had just been with them; they had just driven around half the night tracking monsters that weren't there. And then they went to bed, and then… Then, there was nothing but desert.

"No," she said firmly, simply refusing to believe him "No."

The boy blinked at her, suddenly just as confused. He glanced at Amy for a second, before returning his gaze back to Kaz. "Yeah, they're gone." His voice was flat, and had gone a little bit bored.

She pursed her lips tightly together for a moment, her hands balling into fists. His answer didn't make any sense to him. She had _just been here_. She opened her mouth to tell him this, but Amy's hand tightened around her wrist, effectively stopping her. She stared down at the other girl's hand, but before she could say anything Amy was already speaking up.

"It there anything else you can tell us?" she asked in that same sweet voice. Her accent seemed to make the boy's demeanor soften, and a stupid smile came to his face.

"Oh, yeah, the big one asked about renting a car," he said with a casual little shrug. A part of Kaz hated him. Couldn't he tell that they were in a hurry? "They had to go off-island, though. So I dunno' what happened to them."

Amy smiled at him again – why was she _smiling_? Kaz felt panicked again, that worry rolling back in to cloud her vision. It made her feel sick to her stomach, and she found herself wanting to reach across the counter and shake the boy until he actually told them something _useful_.

But Amy was calm, and she just said a quick goodbye to the boy before linking her arm with Kaz's to pull her back out into the blinding sunlight. Now, away from the stranger's gaze, she was watching Kaz sympathetically. "C'mon, the Doctor will think of something," she promised.

Kaz let out a sigh and slumped into the other girl as they made their way back to the TARDIS. Rory was looking around at things, almost as if he was only doing it to appear busy, and the Doctor was still waving his screwdriver around – now he was waving it toward the roof for some reason.

Rory saw them first, and he walked toward them quickly. He eyed her curiously, but then her eyes were on Amy – as they usually were. Her eyes moved past them to the Doctor, who had finally noticed them, as Amy explained what the clerk had told them. "They're not here," she was saying, and Kaz felt like screaming again.

"Well," the Doctor said lightly, catching enough of Amy's explanation to know what was going on. (Although Kaz had a feeling he had known all along.) "Let's phone a friend."

* * *

Bobby had been up all night, trying to translate an _impossible_ scrap of something he had dug up looking for information on angels. It had been slow going, and now the sun was peeking through the cracks in the dark shades closed over the windows. He rubbed his eyes blearily before reaching for the nearly empty bottle of whiskey beside him. He downed the rest, and that was when he heard it – a loud groaning that was impossible to forget.

He jumped to his feet, the empty bottle falling from his fingers as he rushed to the window to pull the shades. Sunlight flooded the mess in the sitting room, blinding him momentarily. Slowly his vision crept back into focus, starting with blurs of green and grey, and then something big and blue…

"Sonnofabitch," he groaned under his breath, although he couldn't help but smile.


End file.
